Nostalgia
by Alex L. Kerr
Summary: Wistful reminisces into Sam & Dean's childhoods/teen years. Oh and Bear, Dean's stuffed animal from A Small Price to Pay, shows up in here. Tags: weechester, teenchester, cuddling, hugs, nightmares, stranger danger, safety, protection, memories, recollections, jerk, bitch, security, family, affection, love, grief


Writer's Note: I promise I'm not leaving Trialculosis Sam but I'm admittedly stalled on figuring out how to make Dean singing to Sam plausible (lol). In the meantime and in the spirit of yesterday's episode, I give you these funny/sad wistful reminisces into Sam & Dean's childhoods/teen years. Oh and by the way, Bear, Dean's stuffed animal from A Small Price to Pay shows up in here. And _actually_, this fic will probably remind you of the beginning of A Small Price to Pay in style and voice. I tried to be elegant: let's see how that goes. ;) Thank you!

* * *

Sam had always been Dean's.

When their mother died, his father grieved, Dean had fallen silent, and Sammy cried. John would know what to do when the baby started crying. He'd get the bottle warmed up or he'd pick him up to rock him to sleep... But invariably it'd be Dean that'd finish the job.

Dean would watch quietly and, when the time came - when John wouldn't be able to continue - Dean would be right there next to him with open arms and John would whisper a shaky low thank you as he passed the baby to him.

And when Dean took Sam into his arms and stared into the infant's huge wide eyes, unlike his father it was difficult to stay sad. Sammy would settle down with Dean like he never did with their father because Dean was the one that could smile as he fed him his bottle. Dean was the one that snuggled back when Sam would wriggle against him to get closer and Dean was the one that made such heartfelt breakable promises like, "I'll always keep you safe," because their father couldn't do that anymore.

...

As Sam grew, so did Dean and it had been Sam's fever at eight months that'd broken his silence. Dean remembered his mother telling him to be brave and when Sam was so warm and couldn't stop crying, Dean had to speak up because their father wasn't registering the emergency.

...

They were staying in motels by the time Sam was a year old. Sam was smart; he learned how to walk and run early - right into Dean's arms - and his crib had an easy latch. The crib's design was discontinued a year later but Dean didn't mind because instead of endangering Sammy it had allowed him to figure out how to get to Dean when he needed him. Their father always slept in the bed next to Dean's and the crib was always closer to John but Sam would always walk farther to get to Dean.

It was rare Sam would choose his father. He'd only choose John if he accidentally woke him up getting out of the crib.

When they were too young to learn how to protect themselves, John was always scared and Sammy, even as young as he was, felt it. Dean didn't because his father embraced him far less after she'd died.

It was obvious to the youngest though: John would cling to Sam like he'd lose him but Dean held Sam like he'd never let go.

So Dean, if he was awake, would hear the click and slide of the railing, the small sniffles and a few moments later the side of the bed would depress slightly as Sammy would whisper "Dee?"

Dean would only be awake enough to say a bleary 'hi' or 'hey Sammy' while opening the covers and Sam would make soft rustling noises as he clambered inside. Without fail Sam would always bring his blankie with him. It'd trail softly, swishing across the floor, and once Sam was tucked in against his big brother, Dean usually had the vague sleepy wherewithal to lean over his little brother and pull Blankie all the way up into bed with them.

With Dean's warmth and the comforting texture of Blankie against his face, Sam would curl up and fall asleep in no time.

...

Dean hung the moon for Sam. He made grass blades whistle and wood pencils into rubber and the floor into lava and sometimes he'd show Sam 'moon dirt' by mixing water and cornstarch (when they had cornstarch; usually they'd find it in a back cupboard somewhere in whatever rundown motel room their father had put them in). They made snow men and goofy masks for Halloween and they'd beg their father to stay at motels that had pools (even though they didn't have swimming trunks, they'd always make do).

...

Dean had been told once - just an offhand comment by their father - that he was too old to keep Bear, the stuffed animal that'd managed to survive the fire. Dean remembered his mother placing it under his arm in bed.

She'd kiss him goodnight and go.

She'd gone and Dean, at his father's utterance, decided he could handle Bear being gone too. He could if it meant that one of the only two people in his world would be pleased.

Dean had decided to leave the soft blue stuffed animal with its chewed-up nose (both Sam and Dean had liked to give Bear gummy bites at its nose when they'd been teething as infants) in the motel room.

It'd been Sammy, still getting over a slight cold, that'd wanted Bear in the back seat with them right before they left for another town. Sam had always slept with Bear when he slept with Dean so Bear was an extension of _Dean_ and when Sammy was sick all he wanted was _Dean_ and reminders of _Dean_ and that meant as much of _Dean's stuff_ that he could get his hands on.

Sam liked their Dad's leather jacket too... but maybe that was because Dean always asked for it when _he_ was feeling sick. Dean never really asked for anything of Sam's but whenever their dad would cover Dean with his jacket, as soon as he looked the other way, Sam would pat Dean's leg and Dean would lift his arm up and Sam would climb in next to Dean under the leather that smelled like home.

Sam liked cuddling and as much as Dean would loathe to say it now, he did too. He'd had four precious years experiencing the shameless affection expressed by his mother in kisses and gentle touches and soft verbal reassurances and hugs. Mary hugged her firstborn often, her 'angel.' She hugged him with unconditional love, constantly relieved and relishing the normal life she'd managed to salvage and the beautiful child she held in her arms.

Dean had experienced those years but Sammy hadn't. When their mother died, their father turned dark and Dean had no one to love him as completely as she had.

It took Dean about a month to figure out he was wrong. Sammy could love like she had loved. The roles were reversed but Dean would've taken anything... and then Sammy became everything.

Dean reciprocated as soon as Sam initiated. In Dean's head, as long as it wasn't John or him starting it, it wouldn't be dishonoring Mary's memory. At least, that's how John had made it seem. John refused to love like he had before - even to his children - so he could miss it; miss her; remember her.

But Sammy could smile at Dean and Dean could feel good. Their father only ever smiled sadly or proudly without much room in between but Sammy brimmed with adoration, his bright eyes and deep dimples there for Dean when Dean needed them. Sam was the only one in their family that could love so openly like that now. The only one that wasn't doing anything wrong by being so happy without her.

...

Dean grew muscles earlier than most children; most children didn't lift weights but Sam was a constant presence by his side and he liked to be picked up. Dean never refused Sam and John never challenged it. At some point John had to have realized what Dean was becoming to Sam.

But John couldn't provide security or safety. He simply had to live in fear for his children until his eldest could be trained. It would be _training_, not him, that would keep them all safe.

So Dean was drilled in self-reliance by his father to feel safe... and Sam was told to rely on Dean to feel safe. It worked for only one of them. The other made sure of that.

...

Sam was an early bird starting around the age of five. He'd wake up next to Dean and, knowing it was too early to get up, wait for his brother. Sam was also impatient though and he'd sometimes just stare at Dean's face until he couldn't take it anymore and decide to play the Count-Dean's-Freckles game.

Dean didn't like this game.

Dean didn't like this game because this game had a rule that you could only count them if you touched them.

The number of times Dean would wake up thinking there was an insanely tenacious fly landing on him and taking off over and over again...

Eventually Dean would break the surface of consciousness to hear the muffled yet unmistakable pitched giggles of his little brother. As annoying as it was, Dean didn't mind waking up to Sammy's laughter.

...

Dean always stood in front of Sam and spoke first when meeting new people. That habit never changed even into adulthood.

Sam didn't understand the threat people posed when he was young. He'd run up to new potential friends or amiable adults, grinning and greeting: the world's greatest two-foot ambassador. Dean would appear and pull him back behind him if conversations ran for too long or if he had a bad feeling. Sam never questioned it and figured Dean was just interested. He'd fall back and let his big brother take point. He'd watch eagerly as Dean talked to his new friends, especially the adults, and asked them cool questions that Sam had never thought to wonder about.

Questions like, 'Where are your kids?' and 'What do you do?'

One time an adult gave Sam and Sam's playmate at the time, Holly, some candy bars near the alley behind the park. Dean was there in two seconds flat knocking the candy out of their hands and picking Sam up. Dean said, "fuck off," at the adult and grabbed Holly's hand.

Sam started to cry into Dean's neck and he could hear Holly begging Dean to let her go as Dean held her hand roughly in a brisk walk to the other side of the park.

Sam could feel Dean's body shaking as he held him against his chest tightly like he thought someone would rip him away. Dean let Holly break from his hand hold when he caught sight of her Mom. Holly ran to her and Sam felt Dean's arm slide up his spine to hold him tighter. Sam regripped Dean's waist with his legs, sniffling into his chest, not understanding why Dean was acting this way. He tried asking but Dean just said, "not now," his voice hard and sharp. Sam hugged Dean to see if he was really mad at him and Dean had hugged him back.

Dean stopped moving and started talking. Sam turned his head against Dean's shoulder to get a watery look at who Dean was addressing: that perfunctory group of relaxed park parents with their coffees and bags all settled around the picnic tables and benches chatting. Dean made them stop and listen with Sam still in his arms. Their eyes widened with surprise then narrowed as comprehension dawned, their features darkened and their eyes shot to follow where Dean was pointing: the alley where the man had been.

Dean hefted Sam up against him again, jostling him so he couldn't see. Sam got a glimpse of a few of the parents striding towards the alley looking furious and then Dean was walking again. Sam heard a couple yells and a couple bad words coming out of the parents' mouths, an engine revving and a car taking off. Just as they left the park Sam heard two adults yelling to each other across the park:

"You got his plates?!"

"Yeah I got 'em."

Dean took Sam all the way back to the motel room before letting him down and locking both locks on the door. Sam had apologized with a wobbly voice and stale tears even though he didn't know what he'd done wrong. Dean moved to their father's bed and closed his eyes to breathe.

He was still trembling when Sam crawled up to give Dean another hug. They'd fallen asleep for Sammy's afternoon nap that way. When they both woke up, Dean gave Sam a lecture in the kitchen while he made them both dinner.

...

"Jerk" and "Bitch" came around when Sam was around eight. Neither Dean nor Sam (and least of all John) really remember how it happened. The two of them just _bantered_... and it simply always came back to that.

When Sam was in fourth grade, he drew a fantastic sketch of his family in front of the Impala. His teacher thought the angled perspective was unique, the dimensions had shades of color to them: Sammy had quite the eye and certainly the ability. It was the last day of the project when Ms. Adler told everyone to give their pictures any finishing touches. She passed by everyone's designs, monitoring their progress with pleasure until she stopped at Sam's, giving his artwork a double-take.

There, in the midst of his impressively detailed, vibrant art with the angled perspective, were two bluntly drawn speech bubbles coming from the two depicted children.

"Bitch," was written inside the top one and it was traced to the taller brother. "Jerk," was right below it, tracing back to what was presumably Sam.

Their father got the call that afternoon and had to come into the school. When he got back to the motel room, Sam and Dean stood up, contrition written over both their faces.

John let them stew for a minute before breaking into a smile that turned into peels of laughter as he pulled the picture from behind his back and examined it with the two of them.

He told Sam he loved it.

It was one of the only times Sam had ever gotten so much approval for something he'd done in school.

...

Dean took care of Sam. Fed him, bathed him, clothed him, read to him, and taught him. Dean, Sam thought, was the best teacher in the world. Sam's favorite memory regarding this was when they were staying at a YMCA in Rahway, New Jersey. Sam was about nine, his hero worship of his thirteen year old brother still in full bloom.

There were inside courts there and the two of them would play together every day after school before dinner. Dean threw the ball to Sam to check before they started but Sam held the ball and apologized.

"Why?" Dean had asked, confused and stood up straighter.

"I'm not as good as you-"

"You're doing great, bud, c'mon," Dean replied immediately and clapped his hands before beckoning for the ball. Sam's nails dug around the rubber as he held on, still feeling bad about the last play: he'd literally just dribbled the ball too hard and it'd gotten out of his hands and out of bounds. Dean stood up straight again and sighed.

"Sam, trust me, playing one-on-one with you is always a win-win for me."

Sam snorted.

"What, because I always lose?"

Dean quirked a smile.

"Nah man. If I win, I win and if you win, I win," Dean said, puffing his chest out arrogantly.

"Wait why do you win when I win?" Sam asked indignantly.

"Because I've taught you everything I know," Dean replied, smirking.

"Sooo... you win when I beat you because-"

"-Because I taught you how to beat me."

"So the teacher wins if the student beats them?"

"Hell yeah," Dean smiled, hunkering back down on bent knees and clapping for the ball again. Sam huffed a smile and bounced the ball to Dean. "I'd be a pretty shitty teacher if I didn't think that, right?" Dean added casually, grinning as he bounced the ball back to Sam and moved up to block.

Sam thought about that conversation later and realized how important it was... realized how much Dean cared that Sam do well - do better - than even him.

...

They both had nightmares and they had a standing pact to wake each other up. Dean would see the Lawrence house on fire with his mother inside and monsters coming for Sam. Sam would see their father's demise or Dean in danger. Sam was generally more worried about their father than Dean was.

It had been forced into Dean the idea that training meant safety so in his mind John had to be the most protected... and Sam the least.

Dean knew exactly where his priorities lay.

Dean's priority soon turned into his jurisdiction. Protective turned into possessive but not necessarily in an overbearing way... Just...

Sam was his. Sammy didn't really belong to their father. John rarely made an effort to keep Sam close since he knew Dean had him covered. And around the age of five Sam had realized that John's permission (or lack thereof) had no real bearing on his life. As he got older this truth grew into a standard expectation.

Sam would ask to go on a field trip, make cookies for his class, try out for soccer or a play, enter the talent show and John would almost always say no if he wasn't entirely absent anyway. It was normal practice that afterwards Sam would appeal to his brother and even when their father had said no Dean would usually be able to make it happen.

John would take off anyway so really what exactly held their father's word over Dean's when he was gone?

The answer was nothing in Sam's mind and almost everything in Dean's. The only place John's eldest drew the line was when it came to Sam. Dean had no qualms undermining his father's authority when it came to his little brother and Sam had no dilemma in keeping secrets from John.

Eventually, mainly around 7th or 8th grade, Sam just gave up asking John for anything that he knew Dean could take care of. Whether it was a parental signature or money or his presence, Dean would forge, gamble and be there for his little brother.

And Sam, for his part, rarely took it for granted. He'd accidentally developed a fear of clowns he'd been so willing to let Dean go out and have fun when he could.

So no, Sam wasn't John's... and as much as Sam really liked Uncle Bobby, the man dealt with Dean more. He leveled with Dean often and helped to unburden him as much as he could.

Sam was grateful to Bobby on Dean's behalf as he'd gotten older and realized but still... Sam remained attached to Dean and Dean always made it clear that that was how he wanted it.

Dean was wary of anyone that believed they held a greater authority over Sam than him. They simply didn't and if any adult or teacher wanted to challenge that, well Dean was always quick to show he wasn't bluffing... and Sam? Sam was his ace in the hole. Sam never choose anyone over Dean.

...

Sometimes they'd stay in places that could afford them their own rooms. Sam was always quick to jump at the opportunity, having started developing this dream of normalcy that would eventually turn into a lifelong theme.

After a couple days the novelty would always wear off though and Dean would find Sam idly walking into his room for absolutely no reason at all... just to talk or ask stupid questions or... just to see his big brother.

They were just across the hall from each other but Sam had never felt lonely. His threshold for it was laughably low.

Dean would hide his smile every time Sam would meander in to look around and touch his stuff, deliberately provoking him ("Sammy don't touch my stuff, man, what're you doing? Why're you in here? How's homework going? What do you want for dinner? Go grab the TV guide let's see what movies are playing tonight").

...

When Sam was in high school, he realized how much he loved Dean's hang-over days. He'd sleep until noon on either Saturday or Sunday, leaving Sam the mornings to do homework, wake up to discover the wad of cash in his jacket he almost always had after a big night of pool and poker, take a shower, and step out to give the bland announcement, "Okay what're we doing today?"

To Sam, it was sky's the limit on what they could do because Sam always wanted to go to quiet places that usually had great food (which was literally all Dean could possibly ask for). Museums were Sam's favorite though and so they'd clamber into the Impala, excited, wide-eyed little brother jumping into the passenger seat and the hung-over yet amused big brother sliding behind the wheel and they'd take off.

Sam found Dean's running dead-pan commentary to be particularly funny as they went from exhibit to exhibit. Modern art museums were the best for that: it usually came down to Dean interpreting all the pieces as abstract renditions of certain areas of the human anatomy. The first time Sam pointed out that Dean had been correct after reading the placard, giggles turned into full blown laughter and they'd been asked to leave.

They'd grab lunch. Dean would always want to go to a steakhouse with his "earnings" but Sam, knowing their financial situation only too well, would wheedle Dean down to more reasonable restaurants unless they were actually celebrating something.

They'd finish up by catching a matinee movie. Dean always smuggled them into the R-rated ones after paying for a different movie in the same time slot. This became old hat to them.

...

A lot of things came and went in Sam and Dean's lives; it was the nature of living such a transitory existence.

But one thing always stayed the same.

* * *

Writer's Note: Thank you so much for reading! Please comment/review if you can spare the time!


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